Soul Staccato
by Wordgawk
Summary: A blooming obsession begins unraveling Claude. Claude x OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Writing Claude has been a joy and then some!  
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**This fanfic takes place at the start of the anime's second season.**

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><p><span>Soul Staccato<span>

The afternoon brings tea time. A respite from the trials of mundane business dealings through document study or phone jabber. Alois usually demands a full tray of confectionaries with his Darjeeling tea. Claude, ever so present and loyal, brings the sugary delights in without argument. Arguments meant caring on his end, which he plainly did not when the young master's temper got the best of him.

Alois cares enough for the both of them today when he screams obscenities the moment Claude sets foot into his office with a silver tray of eateries in hand.

From the gnashing of his teeth and fist pounding on the desktop, Claude presumes the negotiations for obtaining the rights to the oil field Alois had mentioned the day before did not go like clockwork. It is these sensitive hours that Claude understands to stay by Alois' side should he need comfort. Even if remaining meant enduring physical ravages of flung cutlery or hard candies to his frontal cortex.

As used to as he is to Alois' whirlwinds of anger in the years he has served the boy, Claude always finds himself bracing for something despite his emotionless face showing little more than base expressions. Unlike that spoiled Sebastian Michaelis, Claude can't relent his diligence when around his master.

"Are the talks working out at all?" he inquires as he slowly sets down the tray in front of Alois. He begins to fill an ornate cup with strong tea.

Alois glares at the perky green frosting of his midday snack, a slice of cake with a tongue-twister of a name. "Damn it, those idiots should be gutted! No, they ought to have their intestines pulled out and watch while it's happening!"

One by one in front of Alois, Claude takes out the contents of the tray. The plate of cake, a fork, cup of steaming liquid, and the small creamer and sugar. Normally, Alois doesn't play with the mixing of his tea, but in his grouchy moods Claude learned it was best to leave the mixing to the master. They couldn't waste pots of tea just to get the exact amount of sugar and cream. Claude has played that game countless times.

"Don't you agree, Claude?" Alois roughly grabs the fork and stabs himself a slab of spongy cake.

When it comes to worldly affairs which have treated Alois so unkindly, Claude has an obligation to side with Alois. "Of course. But do remember that some of these companies require more than one call. Try them again tomorrow."

And like leaving the tea preference to Alois, such was the same when the eating came. "I will be back later to pick up your dishes. Do enjoy the dessert." Claude bows for his departure.

Alois' nostrils flares indignantly and he points to the floor. "Stay, Claude."

But Claude knows the wiser. Besides, he has a busy schedule. "I'm sorry, young master. I have a few errands I cannot put off. You'll calm down later."

"Doubtful." Alois slouches. But it is true.

Claude turns and walks to the door. When his hand touches the brass knob, the porcelain milk pitcher shatters on the wall near his head. Milk splashes and streaks down the wallpaper to the carpet below, stray drops of it also catching Claude's uniform.

Oh, the master liked to work him. Claude sighs, mentally noting to bring cleaning supplies on his trip back here.

Sliding the door shut behind him, Claude heads to the kitchen. Inventory day.

Before he begins his inventory work, he steps over to the sink. He removes his glasses to clean spots of milk from the lenses. That brat could be such a handful some days.

"Oh, Claude, is something the matter?"

He doesn't face the new voice of the household right away, as he's concentrating on running water over his frames without wetting his gloves. "It's nothing." He shuts off the tap and pulls out a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket.

Then the woman is standing next to him, looking at his eyewear in concern. After poor Hannah's accident involving her eye, she had requested an assistant maid to help out while Hannah got used to lessened depth perception. Permelia, her name is. She is a plain one, with medium length light hair and a small stature. She is paid to care.

"Let me help." Permelia already reaches out for the cloth in Claude's hands.

"I am not an invalid." Irritably, Claude casts her a moody glare. This newcomer is an inconvenience to train, as Claude already has enough work to do delegating revised chores among the triplets and Hannah, thanks to Alois' penchant for destruction. Her workload is a strain and on more than one occasion Alois has taken out his displeasure on her due to her slowness. Yet, she persists in her efforts.

Intriguingly, she is human. Hannah told Alois this fact. Claude, present during her request for the maid, had been sure Alois would roar in laughter and kick Permelia out. He didn't, though, citing something with a twisted grin about giving them food for thought.

Whether those words were literal or not, Claude could not help but be slightly fascinated. Particularly when Alois ordered the rest of his servants not to reveal their demon natures. Toss in a lamb of uncertainty into a household of wolfish demons. Claude likes it.

Or does he? Claude contemplates further. A vivacious soul floating around him like a ghost, tempting him to bite but Claude unable to.

Hmm, perhaps Alois has this in mind when he allowed Permelia into their fold. Immitigable devil.

It is this triggered memory that lets Claude lax his grip when Permelia plucks his glasses and handkerchief from his grasp. She has no idea of the dangers within each of the servants, potential violent energy swirling to burst. Alois' yelling is the physical manifestation of that energy, but he is human.

What will happen if she has knowledge of Claude's true form? Will she be horrified? Shriek and scamper away? Accept the truth in stunned silence? The possibilities thrill him to the marrow, as he has been forbidden to disclose his demonic heritage.

A rushing sound begins to fill his ears and he doesn't realize he openly stares at Permelia until she glances up from her cleaning. Her dark eyes widen and it's the movement that breaks Claude's reverie, sending his thoughts spiraling in a whole other direction as a raw emotion pounds in his chest. One persistent thought echoes in his mind. It bounces around to the forefront, squalling for attention.

_I am starving._

He will not devour anyone else's soul except Alois, but it has been so very long since Claude has memory of the taste of one. Centuries? Millennia? The exact period doesn't matter when the pang washes over Claude in such fierce longing that he wants to shatter his binding self-control and utterly _rend_.

Claude nearly unhinges right there when Permelia rubs the cloth over the jacket of his upper arm, not even looking at him but at the stain. "There's a mark here. Oh, and one more here." Permelia's tidying index finger moves to the side of his elbow. The vibrations of her touch spins Claude's head and he has to stay standing straight lest he collapse.

"Are you feeling all right?" Permelia holds out the spectacles and handkerchief with a quizzical frown.

Rein in your insanity, Claude silently orders himself. He clears his throat and takes the articles, being careful not to make contact. He busies himself by neatly folding the fabric to fit into his chest pocket. "Yes, I just finished giving the master his snack."

Understanding fills her expression, as if comprehending. "I see why you're not spotless. Well, if you need to change I think Alois will still be too busy eating to bother you."

The spectacles slip back on the bridge of his nose. _Bother me? Bother while I take you and-_

"What will you be doing, now?" Claude suddenly questions in a flash of inspiration, cutting off his wanton, straying thought. Exciting heat rises up his neck. Yes, he could do this. He could make it through this minor obstacle.

"I have potted plants to take care of in the gardens. The gardenia area with the new soil?"

Claude pretends to acknowledge that trifling chore. "Yes, the gardens. Why don't I join you out there?" He desires to toy so very badly.

Permelia seems very surprised at his offer. "Are you sure? You've plenty of other things you could do."

"I could use the fresh air. I will join you after I clean up." Inventory be damned. It can wait until later. With his ribcage pulsing in anticipation, Claude glides past her smoothly to take lead, daring himself to pat her back in encouragement. He feels a zing in his hand and a reckless whirring dances a vibrant staccato inside his heart.

As Permelia follows behind, Claude's eyes narrow. His licentious tongue darts out to licks his lips. Desire is always sweeter when teased.

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><p><strong>Author's note: It's play time. Stay tuned for chapter 2!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

With a fresh replacement uniform on that didn't hint of expiring milk, Claude's insides have calmed from their catatonic state in the kitchen. As a butler of his word, he does clean not only his attire but the nasty mess that caused his change of clothes.

Claude traverses the long stretches of corridors and doorways to the expansive gardens outdoors. He allows himself a secret smile at his concocting plan. Play with his prey, waltz with the beat of reciprocation as he tests Permelia.

The warm sun touches all those in its path as Claude emerges from the darkened interior of the mansion. His grin drains from his face as he must play his part. He grimaces slightly. The humidity is a tad much for his tastes, but weather is weather. He can turn gold into midnight blue, but the natural elements is admittedly out of his capacity to alter.

"Claude!" In the distance where the rows of blooming gardenias line a wide section of the plot, Hannah waves him over. Permelia is kneeled near her at some shrubbery, digging away.

He starts to approach them, releasing a pent-up shiver of expectation at delight to come. When he arrives at their spot, he is himself again. They greet him.

Permelia wears frustration in the form of a deep frown as she digs in the dirt. Claude raises an inquiring eyebrow at her. Gardening tools surround the ground around her. Barely a quarter of a single row of flowers is planted. Four rows more and the bed is done. Claude can't understand the problem. This is an hour's work, maximum.

"Does the heat distress you, Claude?" Hannah asks him, who stands a watchful distance behind her keep. "Please return inside if you are uncomfortable."

"Well, this heat is a bitch." The grumble comes from Permelia. She looks worn and already has a visible gloss of sweat on her face. Her hair has been tied back. She has a long way to completion. At her crawling rate, Permelia won't be done for at least two, possibly three hours.

"No foul language, Permelia. How would Master Alois react if he heard you?" Hannah's chastise is clear.

"He's too busy stuffing his face full of those new jelly treats and whatnot we got in to listen," Permelia grumbles, uncouth and not at all ladylike.

"Today his treat is cake," Claude can't help but correct her, seeing as he served Alois.

Permelia shakes her head to ward off their talking. "Fine, sorry. I'm not in the best mood when I'm too hot and have 60 million dirt slots to fill in only one hour. I'll never finish!"

Hannah hangs her head in sympathy as she tells Permelia, "I'm sorry to impose the gardening to you. I still need to adjust to my other eye and I'm afraid lining up flowers proves more difficult than I initially thought. I can bring you whatever materials you need. I will send word to the master of your need for more time to complete this planting. He will understand. Don't worry."

Permelia glances at Hannah, at the fresh bandage covering her once flawless face. Fear flashes in Permelia's eyes before she blinks and busies herself in the dirt again.

As the older woman placates the younger one, Claude studies them in interest; Hannah, guilty over inconveniencing Permelia, and Permelia as she struggles to plant pot after pot of gardenias in the hot weather.

Then understanding clicks in his brain. Of course Permelia will have difficulty expediting everything in an hour. Claude is comparing times to demonic standards when Permelia certainly is not.

Well, Claude takes his chance. "Shall I assist you?"

The two ladies' shocked heads swivel towards him, especially Hannah. Claude likens her expression as one when he has been asked to do cartwheels for a circus show. Voluntarily. He ignores Hannah's stare.

"It's all right. We'll be fine." Hannah replies for them. Defensively.

Claude undoes the buttons on his tailcoat and removes the stifling thing. Permelia has her full attention on him when he does so. "I insist. Permelia should have help for labor such as this."

"Won't you get dirty?" Permelia skeptically raises her eyebrows at seeing the pristine white of his collared shirt.

"What is laundry for, hmm?" Claude speaks rhetorically, catching himself by surprise. He is not one for aimless chatter. Claude picks up a trowel and passes it to Permelia, brushing lightly against her arm to hand it over. "This moves the dirt around easier."

"T-thank you." Permelia accepts his advice.

"Do you require something to drink? You may get thirsty staying out in the sun for so long." Claude is brimming with helpful tips.

Permelia nods in agreement. "Sounds good. I forgot to bring some out."

Permelia continues to plant seeds. Claude sees Hannah approach them with an unsettled look, clearly picking him out of the two to interrogate as she glares at him and not Permelia. He wonders what has bothered her so.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Chapter 3 awaits...<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hannah pointedly moves to Claude's side, standing right between him and Permelia. Claude glances upwards.

"May I speak privately to you, Claude?" Her severe gaze does not make her question a request.

Claude straightens and steps a few paces away with Hannah from the working girl. "Is something the matter?" he asks unnecessarily.

"Permelia is my charge. I'd appreciate it if you don't agitate her." Hannah's voice grew strained.

"I am doing nothing of the sort."

"You are giving advice."

He stays silent.

"You never give advice unless it's for Alois. If you're bored, I'm sure I can find something else in the home to satisfy you."

Satisfaction for Claude crouches a mere couple feet away. Coldly, he flicks his eyes towards Hannah. "Shall I train using Laevateinn?"

Summoning the sacred sword is a harrowing experience for the maid. She has to prevent herself from regurgitating every time Claude draws it out from deep within her. Not a pleasant sensation by any means. Claude can extend the duration of the extraction at his own will.

Hannah hangs her head to avoid his gaze. Anger brims in her expression. "If you have any intentions of hurting her..."

"Your imagination runs rampant. I think not of doing such a thing." This claim, Claude admits, is truth. He has no goal to bruise the merchandise. Only to spice it up.

Hannah looks at Permelia, her good blue eye appearing... caring for the girl?

Claude appraises her with a stony glare and flat mouth. He readies his trump card, a methodical, even stream of words. "If you have an issue, do you wish for me to take it up with the young master?"

At hearing his dreadful proposition, Hannah predictably blanches. Having one eye gouged out didn't create any qualms for Alois. What would another eye be to him? "N-no. I was only making a suggestion."

"Then I will take it under advisement." Claude turns his shoulder away slightly, a small gesture indicating the end of the counseling session. He is about to return to Permelia when he says suddenly, "Hannah, please bring out some water."

She pauses, debating between his truth and her belief of that truth. She inclines her head. "I shall trust you on your word, Claude. Do not harm her."

"You have such little faith, Hannah." Claude isn't sure if he sounds sarcastic when her name exits his mouth. He returns his sight to the diligent woman toiling in the soil. His stomach growls.

"Faith has nothing to do with being a demon." Hannah lingers for a moment longer, but leaves as commanded.

"Oh, and one additional favor, please." Hannah's back stiffens at Claude's addendum. His folded coat is held out. "Can you deposit this in my room? You are too kind."

Hannah stares at him before she goes, but he has eyes for one thing in the gardens.

Claude presses his lips together as he nears Permelia. He must see how much she follows his dance. "You are doing a marvelous job." A row of flora has been grounded and she is beginning the next.

"I hope I finish soon. I don't want to disappoint Lady Hannah."

There is a shine in her eyes in the way she says the maid's name. Hope? For Hannah? That doesn't make sense. No, Hannah herself isn't who the emotion is directed at. Is the feeling for a who? A what? Claude becomes puzzled.

"What drives you?" The question doesn't even register as a topic he intends to ask before he speaks it.

Permelia doesn't respond right away, likely not expecting Claude to inquire about something so personal. When she does answer, her voice is quiet. "I wish to be an actress. I need the money, though, but work is hard to find. And roles are often unsavory. My dream is still far off."

Dreams? This is a new concept to Claude. Is this what made souls all the delectable? The passion flaming in her eyes at the mere thought of achieving her dream is undeniably alluring. Most fitting for a tasty soul. He wants to sample a morsel, if just to remember a fragment of what motivation demons have. Claude has not eaten in far too long.

Claude pushes his hunger out of the way and concentrates on the task in front of him. He recommends he dig and she stick the flowers into the soil, as they'll finish quicker. Permelia agrees. He asks, "Are you getting closer to achieving your dream?"

Permelia stops moving at the question. "I don't know." She shrugs and shuffles alongside Claude as he loosens soil for her to use. "I can't tell, but I get hints. A new assignment or a piece of information. I get too excited when I do. As soon as I hear something that could be in my favor I jump on it. Maybe a meeting or a walk-on role. But nothing really happens." She sighs and digs again. "It's a bad habit to gamble so much on tiny things like this, isn't it?"

It's those so-called insignificant things that can drive people, guide them to do miraculous deals they might not have considered doing. A source of fire. Claude fits a puzzle piece to his soul research.

He thinks he does, anyway. He can't tell yet.

"...way?"

Claude has zoned out. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you think I'm going about this dream the wrong way? Chasing after every lead. I mean, you... You're a butler and of high rank. I can't imagine reporting directly to Master Alois. I wish I were like you. Your calmness astonishes me."

Permelia's sad eyes drift low to spot somewhere on his sleeve. The poignancy of her despair is rich and full, like the blackest coffee. Its magnetism is remarkable and Claude is tipping forward. "I cannot divine the future. Nobody can. What is right or wrong I do not become overly concerned over." Claude slowly tips her chin up to have Permelia look at him, so he can understand the soul further. When her liquid eyes pierce it takes him all his willpower to suppress the wracking shudder of ecstasy from contracting his body. Sadness is the finest ambrosia.

"Claude?" He has almost began to overtake her personal territory with his face inching closer to hers. Permelia recedes from the intimacy and unconsciously pulls away.

Inside, he startles, but his composed outer self simply continues the physical exertion of digging. He successfully moves to the trivialities of the days. How she finds the Trancy mansion, what she thinks of the area where they live, where is her favorite spot on these spacious grounds. The subjects are not terribly deep nor enlightening, but Claude is so immersed in the ways that she answers that he vaguely senses Hannah meeting them just as they are done.

The combination of movement and sunlight has Claude in a light sweat and he absently fiddles with his collar. "You did a fine job. I'll be sure to point them out to the young master." Why are these compliments coming out?

Permelia beams. "Thanks to you, Claude. I couldn't have done it all. I-" She halts in her appreciation, seeming self-consciously mindful of Hannah's presence right there. Then her stare steadies as though she's changed her mind, suddenly not caring about unwanted attention. "Thank you, again." Permelia flashes Claude the quickest of smirks. He doesn't know why. He believe he wants to find out. Permelia goes to Hannah to leave together.

Hannah pats her shoulder when Permelia walks up. The gesture is fleeting, but Claude senses fondness. "You finished with the garden. Wonderful." Hannah speaks to Permelia but watches Claude as she states this, who is impassive at their exit. A quirky smile crosses Hannah's face. It flickers and it is clearly meant for Claude. She walks away with Permelia.

If she keeps up those enigmatic smiles enough, Claude will be prone to some violence to discover why.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Writing Claude's cruelness has its fun. Chapter 4 awaits!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Claude has freshened up and completed his task of counting inventory. He sent the triplets to fetch supplies and now he has to prepare tonight's dinner.

He walks the halls, mentally checkmarking another task as done when a distinct yelp sounds from an area ahead he can't see yet. He rounds the corner and a rolling cart of dishes greets him. Pushing it is Permelia, but she has halted. She is shooting an aghast look at her shoulder. A speck of black mars the stark whiteness of her blouse.

Thin appendages stick out from the blob and Claude recognizes his sneaky compatriot. A fond smile glides onto his lips. Why, his friends really were in high places. And helping him closer to his goal of taste-testing without needing to ask. The rascal.

Permelia raises her arm above the spider in panic. Claude understands what lowly fate will befall his companion.

Feeling aghast himself, Claude crosses the threshold to her side in mere strides. Right before Permelia's slapping palm connects, Claude angrily seizes her wrist. "What are you doing?" His sharp tone reprimands her for thinking of such a brutal act.

Startled further by his presence, Permelia winces at his iron grip. "It landed on me without warning out of nowhere! It's-"

"-something I can remedy. Come, come." The icy edge thaws Claude's harsh voice as it takes on a doting note. He gazes at Permelia's unwelcome guest. His fingers tightened around her wrist slides to the small of her very rigid back. Tension weaves in her body like fine cords. The thrum of her quickened heartbeat pulses strongly against the pads of Claude's fingertips, even through the thick fabric of his gloves.

"Relax." He murmurs the command. Permelia tries to oblige by forcing a little tautness from both her shoulders. Her eyes are still focused on the crawling arachnid which has almost reached her collar.

The finicky critter all but salutes when it spots Claude holding out his hand, the one not pressed along the curve of her spine. His offering palm brushes her shoulder with calculated precision as the tiny dickens slinks over to the outstretched stage.

Permelia's clear display of fear, the way her own fate at this minute relied on Claude, arouses him. He is discomfited when his crotch inexplicably hardens.

"What's taking so long?" Anxiety laces the panicked question.

Claude tastes her fright on his tongue, succulent and invigorating. He supposes he could speed up the removal process and scoop up his partner, but he likes the zing of the moment so he lazily wiggles his fingers as if not caring if the spider hitches a ride. "How much do you want it gone?"

"A lot. Get it off me."

Claude presses in closer to her. "What will you do for me?"

Permelia stares unbelieving at him, flummoxed. Her confusion transforms to a mystified wonder, but says nothing, waiting.

He's spinning out of control, more so than he likes. Claude composes himself and steps away to a respectful distance, but not before guiding his tiny friend onto his palm.

Permelia exhales in relief. She shoots him an unreadable look before pushing her cart down the hall.

Claude begins to walk away, working the steady back into his steps.

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><p>Claude is finally able to retire for the day. He walks down the darkened hallways. The wall candelabras are the only source of light. He arcs his head in suspicion. A noise, strange in timing to focus his attention, catches the edge of his hearing.<p>

He strains his auditory range through concentration.

There, again. A scuffle down the hallway. A figure emerges.

"Permelia."

"You have good hearing."

"Why aren't you asleep?"

Ignoring his question, Permelia shakes a sachet in her possession. "Can I show you something?"

What trinket could interest Claude enough for him to answer yes?

Claude nears her as she takes out a book.

"It's an old journal from a retired stage actress."

Claude blankly casts his eyes on the pages. "And?"

"I want you to read it."

"The whole book?"

"No, not the entire book. A few pages. Here."

Permelia flips to a tagged page.

The journal is a chronicle of one's experiences in the acting world. Articles of making a mark in the world and overcoming low expectations does not interest Claude. He reads on about the formation of love between her and another actor. Claude almost shuts the book at this point until Permelia directs him to another section of the novel.

Now the relationship turns into a warding feud, whittling down from kind acts to thievery, betrayal, and the notions of slaughter. Claude becomes interested in the declining mental state of this woman whose utterly passionate declarations to her true love degenerate to bitterness. The story treads the path of hatred and Claude finds the pages turning faster when Permelia stops him at a crucial junction, to his piqued disappointment.

Permelia nods at the volume. "Do you believe she was right to hate someone so deeply?"

Is lying advantageous? Doing it doesn't matter to Claude as much as the question means to Permelia. "I don't care."

"I knew there was something about you I had to find out for myself." Permelia takes the tome out of Claude's grip, closes it, and slips it into her bag. Her eyes bore into his and she stuns him with a single word.

"Demon."

Claude hears himself intake air sharply. His behavior has been impeccable. How can she know so accurately?

"Do you think hunger is something your grand butler facade can hide?" Permelia does not answer his silent wonder. She lifts his chin and Claude quits his mental reel of overanalyzing himself.

There it is. A spark of brimming soul in her mirth for him.

"Look at me. Claude."

The command is forceful, not hiding any of the geniality she showed during their gardening session. The iron intention in her tone tickles Claude's spine.

His gaze melts into her colored orbs. She is angry yet satisfied to pin him. The reflective color shifts to a glowing scarlet, a scarlet of intensity, and it is his own eyes he is seeing. His normally sedate gold eyes are shining.

Claude eventually retrieves his voice out of his pure shocked self. "How long was I like this?"

"When you were reading."

"I couldn't have..." But Permelia's certainty and the glowing pang in his chest from that delightful read contradicts his statement.

"During that spider incident, for an instant I thought I saw your eyes change. I had to be sure _my_ eyes weren't fooling me." She takes her book out of his hands.

Claude is preoccupied with his unintentional slip up when Permelia reaches out for his glasses. He automatically stops her hand. He feels himself about to snap. But perhaps he will spiral into a wondrous direction if he lets go.

And then Permelia nails what drove him to his seduced state. "The parts in that story where the lies and hate are concentrated are tangiest for you, yes?"

The teasing is too much to bear any longer. Claude takes her arms and pulls her hard against him.

"Is this what you were after?" Claude's husky voice demands. His gloved hands frame the hair above her head almost lovingly. In spite of her spirited bravado, Claude senses she doesn't wish to give into the terror of his true nature. She is a human, after all.

"Answer." Claude grazes his lips across her neck, and she arcs into his hands seized on her waist, clearly giving him his answer.

Permelia's eyelids shut as she levels her breaths. Her eyes lock onto his. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Claude growls and seals his mouth on hers, at long last.

Permelia pushes in and contacts his mouth, vigor and wetness. Claude pulls back after what feels like minutes. She has a cunning smile.

Claude frowns. "What?"

"I wanted to see how long it would take until you snapped. You never break that stoicness, not in all the time I've worked here." Permelia covers her mouth to hide her laughter. She winks at him. "The sight is worth it. Let's do this again soon, hmm?"

- THE END -


End file.
